


Bite Me Pies

by Hard_boiled_candy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Cas is a Veterinarian, Dean is a Baker, Gabe is an opinionated lil shit, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Texting, dean is bi, mostly fluff and angst, when things go wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 19:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14625624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hard_boiled_candy/pseuds/Hard_boiled_candy
Summary: From the moment Cas dumps construction debris onto his prep table, Dean is pretty much sunk. So is Cas. But Dean seems to want the sex without the relationship - can they find their way to happiness?





	Bite Me Pies

 

 

Dean noticed an ancient brown and tan Ford truck in the lot behind the tiny strip mall his bakery was in when he pulled in, but didn’t give it much thought. As he prepped ingredients - expensive, fussy chocolate and nuts that he’d taken great pains to acquire - and started dough to proof, he absently noted that whoever was associated with that shitbox truck was making a fuckton of noise on the other side of the wall.

There was drilling.

There was banging.

There was a weird reverberating thwack, that made him tip his head back in wonderment, trying to gauge what on earth could have made that noise.

And then about two handfuls of ancient gyprock and latex paint flung themselves off the wall above the prep table and showered down into eighty dollars of organic Belgian chocolate and organic walnuts.

The damage looked like angel wings; Dean’s thoughts were not angelic.

Heedless of his attire, he bolted into the parking lot behind the bakery and ran to the next door and started banging.

 

“Whoever you are, you sonovabitch, knock it the hell off!” He kept pounding on the door.

Dean stopped pounding when he heard the door slowly unlatch.

He backed away from the door and tried to tone down his expression. When he saw who was behind the door, he had to control his expression again, but for a completely different reason.

The man in the doorway was six feet, maybe a bit more in those work boots, which, apart from tennis shorts, appeared to be all he was wearing. He was sweaty and toned and his close-cut dark hair appeared to be undergoing some sort of insurrection. He was still holding the cordless drill that had dumped construction debris into Dean’s painstakingly planned-out day.

Whoever he was, he managed to look hot as fuck, vaguely menacing and somewhat clueless all at the same time.

Dean’s elevator stare must have been released on its own recognizance; it certainly wasn’t obeying Dean anymore. The man suffered the long and admiring stare, and pursed his lips with a confused expression. Then he burst out laughing.

All the air in Dean’s lungs escaped. Serious, this guy was gorgeous. Laughing, he made Dean’s heart hiccup and speech impossible. He looked down at himself, and remembered that he was wearing a pink terry apron with lace trim over his Zep t-shirt and Carhartts, an unfortunately timed gag gift from his irrepressible Queen-of-Moondoor, Charlie.

“Ah, shit,” Dean managed when his new acquaintance stopped laughing, acknowledging with a glance that, yes, he did look extra-crispy ridiculous today.Regaining his composure, he said, growling, “Come see what you did.”

His new neighbour didn’t move. They stared at each other briefly, then the other man waved the drill around, miming that he needed to put it down. He turned to place it on a sawhorse and Dean viewed for the first time the sculptural perfection that was this man’s ass.

“Fuck,” Dean heard himself say.

“I’m really, really sorry, whatever happened,” the man said, misunderstanding both Dean’s intent and his tone.

To save himself from rushing over to the man and lovingly rubbing the tip of his index finger over the man’s lower lip to find out if it was as soft as it looked, and possibly just skipping that part and moving the shorts away from this man’s dick long enough to enthusiastically blow him, Dean said, “What are you doing drilling holes that big in the walls?”

“I’m putting up shelving,” the man said reprovingly. “And the landlord authorized it.”

“I don’t doubt it, but Crowley’s a rapacious tool, so maybe talk to your neighbours first,” Dean said, feeding the reproof back to him, mostly to prevent himself from asking inane questions about marital status and boinking privileges.

Then he remembered he had a socially mandated reason to touch him. He stuck out a hand.

“I’m Dean. Dean Winchester,” he said.

“Cas. Dr. Cas Novak.”

“Doctor?” Dean said, regretfully letting go of Cas’s strong and non-sweaty hand.

“I’m a vet. Please don’t ask me for ketamine or for midnight stitches.”

“Wow, you must get hit on… a lot for ketamine if it’s the first thing you say to a total stranger.”

“I was trying to be funny,” Cas said mournfully, and somehow that was much funnier than the joke and Dean laughed.

Of course they both saw the mess on the prep table as they passed by Dean’s little office at the back of the store and that made their residual smiles fade into bleakness. Cas put his right hand up to his temple and gaped. He turned to Dean, his face only a few feet away, and said in a stricken voice, “The wall’s nothing, but I trashed all your work.” Which was exactly the right thing to say to Dean; Cas was acknowledging the problem. Dean waited.

“Of course I’ll cover your time and materials, all of it,” Cas promised.

 _No, you will not offer to take it out in trade_ , Dean thought, paralyzed by the bluest, most sincere gaze he’d ever experienced.

“You can buy me dinner,” Dean said. “A nice one. I may be easy but I’ll take dinner first.”

There was a brief and suddenly frosty pause. “I must regretfully inform you that I really don’t have the time to do that. I’ve got a day to get the shelving in and another day for the electrical and then the movers are coming.”

“You do your own electrical?” Dean whistled admiringly.

Cas snorted. “Not really, it’s more like running extension cords prior to moving all the furniture in. The service is big enough, there just aren’t enough outlets.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean said. The building had gone up in the fifties and it seemed as if outlets were scarce. “And you don’t have to feed me right away, I can wait.”

The frost came back even harder. “I will be more than happy to write you a check for the damages caused, but I’m not comfortable with your suggestion.”

Dean backed off.

Cas, having assessed the situation he’d created, gave Dean a look he couldn’t read and excused himself with, “I won’t do anything on that wall for the rest of the day, and you can bet I’ll have a word or two with Crowley.” Dean watched that exquisite ass stroll through the back door and then covered his face with his hands. He blew out hard and then started the clean up.

 

Dean didn’t see anything of his new neighbour until three days later, when the sign he’d ordered was finally installed. The moving truck was out front.

He stepped outside to inspect their work and, not meaning to, started to laugh.

The BITE ME PIES sign looked like this:

 

BITE ME

PIES

785-555-PIES

 

No doubt as a result of the rude humor of the installers, and thanks to some oversight which made the fonts on the two signs virtually identical, the BITE ME portion of the sign aligned perfectly with the sign on the adjacent corner. As one drove down the street, it read BITE ME VETERINARY CLINIC, as the two signs ran together in the view of any driver going southbound.

Cas, he decided, was going to go ballistic. _Oh well._

Thus he was unsurprised when, this time, it was his bakery’s back door that got a furious pounding, leading him to think _that man can give me a furious pounding an-y-time._

“Dude,” Cas said when Dean opened the door. His sarcasm so overflowed with the word that he might as well have said, “You fucking idiot.” Dean blanched. “How dare you put up that sign so it makes a mockery of my business?” Cas demanded.

This time Cas was fully clothed, thank god. Dean was wearing an apron covered in dinosaurs, a gift from a boy he’d be stepdad to if his mother hadn’t fallen in love with someone else.It was nice of Lisa to let Ben hang around the bakery for a couple of hours every other Sunday, otherwise he’d never see the kid.

Dean shrugged as if seeing Cas wasn’t filling him with a whole frame’s worth of inappropriate lust. “It wasn’t me, it was the sign company, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s fucking hilarious free advertising. I bet with a little coaxing we could get it to go viral.”

“Perhaps you don’t understand that while pies are meant to be eaten, being bitten as part of a veterinary treatment would be no inducement to any sane person to request my services,” Cas said in tones indicating that he was just barely shy of losing it. It was super hot, and Dean stared at his mouth as he spoke because if he looked Cas in the eyes he’d be thinking all kinds of things about sex and it would really show in his expression. “This adversely affects my business, my professional reputation and my credibility in the community.”

“And if Crowley said that per the lease I could put my sign exactly where it is —” Dean wondered aloud.

Cas tilted his head to one side and allowed disgust and displeasure to fill every line of his face.“Take it down. Immediately.”

He left.

 

Dean shrugged and texted Crowley.

 

Dean’s phone started to blow up at 6:30. The student TV station at the University had sent two reporters/performers to show how amusingly bad the sign was from a number of different angles. They in turn had edited their findings into a fairly sleek minute-long piece and the closest ‘real’ station had picked it up.

The next day the network had it for the morning shows and life got a little raucous for a while.

Dean kept waiting for Cas to come kick the door in and demand what he had done to deserve this horrible fate, and was disappointed for a long time.

Then, the door kicking came.

Or maybe he was just whacking the door with the palm of his very useful-looking hand. It was a metal-clad door, the surface put together of mismatched pieces of scuffed silver metal and held in place by fatigued rivets. It made a terrible racket.

Dean pasted a smile on his face, expecting a blast of shit, and instead it was Cas, nicely dressed in a tie and with his hair slicked back and Jesus God was that a six pack of Corona beer in his hand — and was that an abashed look on his face?

“You’re not going to believe it,” Cas croaked. He cleared his throat. Dean moved forward, smiling, to take the beer away and he put the rest in the fridge after removing two.

He waited to talk until the two of them had a beer apiece. He tried to drink his beer sexily, but however he did it, Cas was staring very hard at him when his eyes levelled back out. “What won’t I believe,” he said, pushing his voice into its lowest register.

“I’m going on the Ellen Show.”

His beer paused in mid-air, and Dean said, “Get outta town.”

“Well, I’ll have to, they’re not coming here,” Cas said, as if it was important to make that clear. “And they want you to come with me.”

“Not a fuckin’ chance,” Dean said comfortably. “I don’t fly.”

“Oh,” Cas said.

“So you’ll just have to be your multi-talented self.”

“That’s kind of another problem,” Cas said.

“What the fuck now?” Dean burst out. “How is you being multi-talented, and good with animals, and insanely good-looking, and practical, and super-intelligent — a problem?”

Cas blinked at this, and then with a beautiful tact that made Dean feel like Cas was the most precious and most perfect person he’d ever meet, or ever likely would meet, he said, “I used to be a model for a couple of years, while I was in university, and now various pet food companies have heard about this, and they’re thinking of asking me to, you know, shill for kitty crunchies and doggo kibble because of this whole bite me thing.”

“Mmm,” Dean said.

“I’m just trying to set up a vet clinic in a small town and I don’t want to do this.”

Dean had another long pull at his beer. He shrugged with his free hand. “Then get the free publicity bump from Ellen and turn down the kibble companies. If you know what you want and the people who love you think you’re doing okay, then the rest of the world can kiss your ass.”

There was a little pause. “Why did you turn down Ellen?”

“I told ya. I don’t fly.”

“It could really help the bakery.”

“Mebbe. Or mebbe I’d just be an segment’s worth of fodder for daytime TV, and I ain’t in the mood.”

“Hunh,” Cas said. After a long pause during which they uneasily watched each other drink beer, while pretending not to, he said in a thoughtful voice, “Were you hitting on me, earlier?”

Dean had trouble answering for a second. “Maybe,” he said, drawing the word out. “What’s it to ya?”

“My gaydar doesn’t work very well,” Cas said apologetically. He put finger quotes around ‘gaydar’ and Dean sucked in his breath. _Damn this guy's adorable._

“That’s a shame,” Dean said. So Cas _was_ going to shut him down. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again,” Dean added.

Cas frowned. “It won’t?” he said.

“Don’t sound so surprised!” Dean said, managing a very fake laugh. “I can keep it in my pants when required.”

“But — what if I don’t want you to?” Cas said, still frowning a little. “I’m really terrible at this,” he said, and looked at the floor.

“That’s okay,” Dean said, and put his beer down.

“Oh,” Cas said. He managed to put his beer down before Dean pushed him into the wall between the front fridge and the sink.

If Dean had been crushing on Cas before, five minutes of kissing him turned a flutter into an obsession. The scruff on his cheeks contrasted so gloriously to his smooth, soft mouth and delicious breath; his hands wandered down to Dean’s ass and stayed there. Panting very slightly, Dean let go of Cas and backed away enough to confirm continued interest.

Cas’s face fell. “You know —“

“What?”

“I told the movers I was just stepping away for twenty minutes.”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Not usually,” Cas said, and Dean chuckled.

“I put a foldaway bed in the back storage room — totally against the lease — “

“What a rebel,” Cas said. “Oh — ,” he said again. “Are you — suggesting something more —“

“Oh, very much, yeah,” Dean said, and after they jammed into each other trying to get through the very narrow door to the storage room, Dean said, “Can I blow you?” and chuckled again at how fast Cas unlimbered his dick.

It was frantic and not very sophisticated and it certainly didn’t take too long.

“Dean—oh God—Dean,” Cas said in little ratcheting bursts as he came.

Dean swallowed. Cas tasted ambrosial; it was both massively unfair and, at this point, totally predictable. He wiped his eyes and then his mouth with the backs of his hands.

Cas was flushed, starry-eyed and even more tousled than usual when Dean pulled him to his feet. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I was wondering —“

“Gimme your cell phone number,” Dean interrupted.

“Oh thank God,” Cas said. They exchanged phone numbers.

Then Cas gave him a very odd look. Almost ashamed, somewhat perplexed. “Are we — are we dating?”

Dean heard the Star Trek red alert klaxon. If he said no, Cas might think he wasn’t a good bet for future sex. If he said yes, it would be the first time he’d openly dated another man.

Trying to sound perfectly casual, he said, “Only if you want to meet everyone in my family and sit still for them telling you that they’ll kill you if you hurt me.”

Cas bit his lip. “Are you joking?”

Dean held his right thumb and forefinger an inch apart and shrugged.

“I can’t imagine being so cruel as to want you to meet my family, so it’s a good thing they all live in Florida,” Cas said, obviously trying to picture it and not liking the image. He sighed. “So we’re on the down-low, right?” He sighed.

“Have dinner with me after you get back, and we can argue about whether we’re dating then,” Dean said. “And come back here when you’re done over there.”

 

Over the course of the next month, Cas and Dean had sex half a dozen times in the bakery, once in the clinic, twice in the Impala, twice in Cas’s truck and once, memorably (and foolishly) in a public park. It was mostly blowjobs. They saw a lot of each other, but they weren’t exactly dating, and they weren’t exactly talking about it either. The dinner that Dean had casually promised never materialized, and Cas didn’t feel comfortable with demanding it.

 

Cas, at first thrilled by the sex, started to be saddened by it. Apart from Dean’s cot at the back of the bakery, they’d never had sex in a real bed, or shared more than a beer by way of a meal, (although Dean sent him home with goodies from the bakery all the time) and they had never been seen in public together. Or to put it another way, they had just barely escaped being seen partly nude in public together. They had some very funny and interesting conversations, but Dean seemed to be all about the D.

It wasn’t really enough, not for Cas. He could see Dean allowing things to just drift for years.

Cas tried to talk to Dean about it, and it was always ‘sure, sure, next time’ or ‘gee buddy I’m really busy and so are you’ and ‘are you having a good time?’ which was not something he could answer ‘no’ to, even if he knew that eventually he’d have to put his foot down, no matter how amazing it was.

Dean’s brother Sam brought his dog into the clinic, for shots and flea treatment. They established early that Dean was his brother, and that Dean wasn’t dating anyone — that Sam knew of. “Oh, I’d know,” Sam said. “Dean and I are pretty close.”

He called his cousin Gabe and drank and cried and said he was a fucking idiot, falling in love _again_ with a closeted man. “How many times is this now,” he said, and Gabe, who wasn’t really listening then anyway, having gotten the point, didn’t answer.

And, over a very large scotch and water, Cas composed the following text.

_Dean, I had a lot of fun but I think we’re looking for different things. I wish you well. Cas._

He blew his nose and hit send.

 

 

Dean saw there was a new text from Cas and didn’t answer right away. When he saw it, his legs almost gave out, and he sat down abruptly. He remembered with crystal clarity that Cas had wanted to date, and he hadn’t given him a direct answer, and why.

He texted back. _Are you too done to talk to me?_

Nothing. A day went by.

 

_Guess so._

 

The next day was a Friday. Dean had already been working for an hour and a half when he heard Cas’s truck pull up. He waited a couple of minutes and then took off his apron and strolled over to the clinic.

The vet tech/receptionist greeted him cheerily, but Cas was stone-faced at her shoulder.

Keeping a neutral expression, Dean said, “Cas, can I talk to you outside for a second?”

Fearing a scene, obviously, Cas curtly agreed.

As soon as the door was closed, Dean said, “Would you join me for dinner tonight?”

“That doesn’t work for me.”

“Going out with me — or dinner tonight?”

“Ei-either,” Cas said.

“Is there someone else?” Dean ground out.

“What? What are you talking about!?” Cas said, appalled. A client approached with a cat in a carrier and Cas shifted his expression into something a little more welcoming and greeted her. When she was out of earshot, he added, scowling, “When would I have had time for someone else? I could ask the same damned thing!”

“You think I’d cheat on you?” Dean’s eyebrows tried to jump off his face.

Cas looked grim. “This is nowhere to be having a discussion I didn’t want in the first place. Very well, then. If you need me to tell you to your face, we’re _done_. May I go back to my work day? Lose my number. Don’t talk to me. You don’t have a pet - that much I know about you - so you have no reason to come into the clinic, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t. If I want something from your bakery I’ll send someone by. Do you think you have it in you to be civil?”

“Yeah,” Dean said after a pause. “Goodbye, I guess.”

He turned and went back into the bakery. Dean sat on the bed in the back and cried for about thirty seconds and then admitted to himself that all he’d had to do differently was be a decent human being.

If he’d listened to Cas from the beginning instead of lusting after him to the exclusion of, you know, lengthy conversation and getting to know him, things might have turned out awesome. Apart from having to come out as gay, or bi, or something, and Dean was not very political about having sex with men, even if he liked it. Or, as with Cas, even if he found somebody with more brains and personality than just rawdog sex appeal.

And fuck Sam for being a cockblock, anyway.

And fuck his life.

 

Two days later, Jo, who worked the late shift at the clinic, and Dot, who worked weekdays at Bite Me Pies, had the following text conversation:

 

Jo: smoke break?

Dot: wtf dude I thought you quit

Jo: Not a cigarette

Dot: being high makes workday go longer u fool, also can’t work cash high, I try, I die … ever try to change cash register tape high I’d rather punch Satan

Jo: wtf is up with doc cas… he’s being a complete asshat

Dot: swap jobs? Sugarlips been a lunatic the last two days. Pam says he and Cas had words outside the clinic

Jo: Like yelling?

Dot: Like ‘whisper whisper looking sad and angry’.

Jo: ????? srsly

Jo: are they an item? I saw Cas come out the back door of Bite Me a couple of times from Ash’s place - you can see the parking lot from his balcony

Dot: Jeez now I wonder. They were being super discreet if so.

Jo: Ask him

Dot: yeah no I don’t think so.

Jo: He’s YELLING but QUIETLY.

Dot: those boys need to get laid

 

The following Friday, Dean did it again. He marched over to the vet clinic and asked if Cas could speak to him privately. He had a little box with four pecan tarts in it.

Cas, rolling his eyes so hard you could hear them squeaking, walked heavily out the door, glared at Dean and folded his arms.

Dean said, as simply and sincerely as he could manage, “I want you to know that I still consider us friends, and if you need me, you can call on me. I know you don’t feel the same way, and I accept that.”

In a gravelly voice, Cas said, “Is that all?”

Dean handed over the little box and said, “Have a pecan tart.” He couldn’t quite keep the disappointment from his voice. He added, “Yeah, that’s all,” and disappeared back into the bakery.

Frowning, Cas slowly re-entered the clinic. Cas had been expecting another request for a dinner date, so he was a little discombobulated. He put the box down on the counter and thought, _Did he just friend-zone me?_ , almost horrified at the thought and even more horrified at how high school this all felt. Then he remembered that it was his idea that they weren’t supposed to be speaking.

It didn’t matter. He was still hopelessly hung up on Dean, who, apparently, had finally gotten the message and was no longer pursuing him.

Jo said, “Are you okay doc?”

“Yeah,” Cas said absently. “I guess so. Go ahead and open the box, I know you want to.”

Dean was on the other side of the wall. Cas wanted to feel Dean’s arms around him so badly he felt almost dizzy for a second. He was just about to sneak out the back and bang on the bakery back door when his cousin Gabe came in.

“Lucky me!” Gabe cried in delight at the sight of the pastry box, “There’s goodies.” While his cousin glared, Gabe scarfed one, moaning in ecstasy and rolling his eyes. He made a pretence of carefully selecting another and sat down with it, closing his eyes and moaning while drumming his heels on the floor.

“It’s a good thing I know you’re not technically crazy,” Jo said. “You’re going to make the dogs start barking.”

Gabe stood, brushed crumbs off and, looking hopefully toward the rapidly emptying box, made a play for the last pecan tart. Cas forestalled him and shoved it into his own face.

Time whirled to a stop.

It felt like Dean was loving on him from the inside out when he bit down. The crust felt crisp and then smooth, the mouth feel of the butter a chorus in the background; the caramel filling was completely free of the chemical taste he’d learned to associate with store bought tarts. The pecans, crisp and just barely salty, floated above the crust and caramel. He could hear the flap of angel wings, he could swear it.

If Gabe hadn’t been there he would have visited Dean to thank him for such a quietly spectacular gift. Not that it mattered much; Gabe’s next words were:

“I’m gonna go check out the bakery.”

“No, Gabe!” Cas said involuntarily.

“You can’t stop this sweet tooth!” Gabe said, with hammy, tearful seriousness. Jo snorted.

More calmly, Cas said, “Well, if you are going, pick me up another pecan tart, some asshole ate the last one,” and he went back to prepping a golden lab for teeth cleaning.

Gabe put his order for an espresso in and watched at the counter as the server/cashier, a no-nonsense woman in her mid-twenties, brought it and another two pecan tarts. She got him his change and then called out to the back, “I’m going to the bank now, boss.” It was the moment Gabe had been waiting for. The owner came up front.

This man was the miserable bastard who over the course of a month had sent Cas’s soul into orbit and forced him to start keeping a change of clothes at work and then stomped his hopes into little shattered fragments. There had been a drunken phone call in which Cas had decided that Dean was ‘the man for him’ and then _another_ drunken phone call during which Gabe was subjected to a list of how useless and cruel ‘straight boys’ who have sex with men on the down-low are.

_Mind you…_

Now that Gabe had seen him, maybe Cas’s willingness to subject himself to that kind of humiliation made sudden blazing sense.

Fuck, Dean was cute. _Oh well. A-smiting we will go,_ Gabe thought.

“So you’re the son-of-a-bitch who broke my cousin’s heart,” Gabe said conversationally, going back to the counter and leaning on it.He snuck a piece of tart.

Dean’s normal ‘welcome customer!’ face vanished. “Who the hell are you,” he ground out, scowling.

Muffled by his food, he answered, “Gabe Hooper, and you’re Dean Winchester.” He swallowed. “Why would you hurt the nicest guy I ever met? It’s like punching a puppy! Why would a big manly man like you do such a thing?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Dean said, his throat tight. “Of course I didn’t want to hurt him! He dumped _me_ before I asked him out! Not that it’s _any_ of _your_ fucking business, chuckles.”

Gabe gave a hollow laugh. “So you were just getting ready to take him to a movie and a restaurant and meetin' the folks after a month of — apparently — hassle-free boot-knocking? I’m pretty sure what _you_ were doin’ was enjoying the milk without the work of keeping a cow.”

“You don’t have to tell me how stupid I am. I looked Cas up on the internet after he dumped me.” _Which is when I found out about his gay rights activist and modelling careers._

“A day late and a dollar short, hunh?” Gabe said. “So now you want to date him? Kind of hard, when you’re not completely out of whatever you call that little cupboard you’ve got in the back.”

Sam, unaware of the drama unfolding, pushed the door open. No fool, he read the room in 1.3 seconds and said in a low voice, “Uh, Dean?”

“Sam, maybe you…” Dean trailed off.

Gabe looked around. “Well, hello there!” and popped his eyebrows suggestively.

“Stay away from my brother!” Dean said.

“Oh… your _brother_! The one who told Cas you’re not dating anyone? Maybe I can ask him. Sam, did you know your bro has sex with men?”

Sam, who had merely wanted half a dozen date squares and half a dozen lemon tarts for his office, and also to check in on Dean, who didn’t seem to be sleeping at all these days and drearily trudged through a haze of suppressed emotion, returned the suggestive look with something close to a hate stare. Then he looked at his brother, who shrugged and looked defeated.

In a hard voice, Sam said, “As far as I know, my brother’s bisexual.” The lawyer in him added, “And I really don’t know why we’d be talking about this at a place of business, since _somebody’s_ getting harassed no matter which way you look at it.”

“Jesus, Sam, how long have you known?” Dean burst out, obviously not caring that Gabe was there.

“High school,” Sam said, frowning back. “What the _hell_ did I just walk into?”

Dean breathed hard and then answered. “I saw a guy briefly. He wanted to walk out in daylight and I choked. He dumped me. The end.”

“Wait a minute….” Sam said, suddenly sounding very suspicious. “What’s Doctor Cas got to do with this?”

Sam read the play of emotions on the faces of the other two men and said, “Oh God, Dean, what now?”

“Relax, Sam, we’ve agreed to be civil,” Dean growled.

“It’s Doctor Cas?” Sam asked, horrified. “But he’s a wonderful guy! What the hell, Dean?”

“Everybody shut the fuck up!” Dean said pugnaciously.

Cas, who did not want to leave his cousin alone with Dean, finally managed to break free of his work day enough to come pry him away from Bite Me.

He stood just inside the door, looking at everyone. Sam greeted him with a curt nod. Gabe smiled lazily, waving his last pecan tart, and said, “Heya, cuz.”

“Gabe, please,” Cas said.

Gabe turned the annoying up a notch. “I like it here!” Gabe said. “Coffee’s the best since I came to this moist and puckered hole of a town, and Dean’s baked goods are a leedle slice of heaven. I don’t wanna leave. Hey, you guys got wifi? Maybe I can bring in my laptop and catch up on my email.”

“Yeah, the password’s EATABAGOFDICKS, all caps,” Dean said. He was looking everywhere but at Cas.

“Hey, that’s your fetish, not mine,” Gabe said comfortably. He turned to Sam. “Feel like going and getting a drink later, you know, compare notes?”

“The password is BiteMe5,” Sam said, spelling it out, his helpfulness once again overcoming his better judgment, “And I’d rather have a drink with Dean’s landlord, if we’re going to grade on a curve here.”

Dean smirked, very briefly, at the idea of Sam voluntarily getting a drink with a landlord he'd already had to threaten with legal action. 

“Dean, is he harassing you?” Cas said, “I can make him leave.”

“Aw, look how he protec’ you!” Gabe said. “From the mean, mean cousin.” Cas looked things not lawful to be uttered.

Dean said, “I think I’d rather have Sam toss him out, it would be more fun to watch.”

“While we’re all talking about each other in the third person, here, I’d like to see him try: I’m a brown belt in Tae Kwon Do,” Gabe said, although the implied threat was diminished by his once again insisting on eating and talking at the same time. Sam openly laughed.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

“It’s all about ground game, ya big moose,” Gabe said, fire in his toffee-coloured eyes. “Once you’re on the ground you’re just as vulnerable as any other schmuck, and I’ll get you on the ground a lot faster and a lot harder than you think possible.”

“If you fuckers start scrappin' I’m going to throw all of you out,” Dean said furiously.

Dot returned from the bank. She stood in the doorway and reviewed, from right to left, everyone she could see. Cas was standing closest to the door, and practically wringing his hands in distress; Sam stood a few yards away, watching Gabe with narrowed eyes, and Gabe was finally finished eating and going into a sparring stance. Dean said, “Dot, I’m heading in back, call the cops if anyone does anything stupid.”

“Dean,” Cas called. “Dean!” he said, louder. Dot, rolling her eyes, lifted the countertop so Cas could go in the back.

“Well, if there’s no sparring, are you sure you don’t want a drink later?” Gabe asked Sam. “No small thanks to me, they’re probably kissing and making up. You’ll want to get the complete low-down on Cas if you’re going to be part of the family.”

“You make it sound like they’re going from painful breakup to planning a June wedding,” Sam said sarcastically. “I didn’t even know they were an item before today.”

“I know, I know,” Gabe said, “Who can keep up with these crazy kids.”

“How about everyone who works with them?” Dot said, with a titanic eye-roll.

Gabe and Sam both looked at her. “What?” she said, irked. “They weren’t hurting anybody and Dean was in the best mood of his life for a month, I wouldn’t mind _that_ situation back. And no-one’s saying it’s a panic to be gay in Kansas, but Lawrence is not a complete hell-hole.”

“Wow,” Sam said.

“Yup,” Gabe said, pursing his very mobile lips in a somewhat suggestive way. “Looks like Dean’s homo panic was completely unnecessary.”

“He could still lose business, coming out,” Sam said.

“Are you saying Dean should stay in the closet because some asshole doesn’t want him touching their food?” Gabe said, blowing a raspberry.

“No!” Sam said. “I am saying it’s none of my business, or yours. Now, if you don’t mind too terribly much,” oh, the sarcasm, “Dot, can I please have half a dozen date squares and half a dozen lemon tarts?”

“Sure thing, Sam,” Dot said.

With one last final glare at Gabe, which made Dot laugh silently, Sam swept out of the bakery.

“Ah, alone at last,” Gabe said, his eyebrows waggling again and his eyes alight with mischief. “Tell me all about Dean.”

“Go peddle your papers,” Dot said.

Cas came back up front. He was flushed and emotional looking, but he no longer looked drawn. “Gabe,” he said warningly. “If you’re going to sit here, you have to spend money.”

“Am I allowed to at least ask what happened?”

“I’ve agreed to date Dean,” Cas said primly.

Dot, hearing this above the subdued roar of the cooler fans, raised her arms to heaven and started singing the Hallelujah Chorus.

“Wiseass,” Gabe said, and Cas made no effort to chide him, since it covered his feelings on the subject perfectly. Then he said, “I’m amazed he got his tongue out of your throat long enough to get you to agree to anything.”

“Really?” Cas said sweetly. “I haven’t told you who you’re sitting next to at our coming-out family dinner.”

“The moose? I’ll climb him like a ladder,” Gabe promised.

Dot got out her phone and texted Jo.

**u r not going to believe this**


End file.
